


The Road Goes Ever On and On

by tahirire



Series: Spirit 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Spirit 'Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-08
Updated: 2008-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahirire/pseuds/tahirire





	The Road Goes Ever On and On

Sam’s first thought on waking in the morning was always the same. _“_ Dean _?”_

 _Yeah, Sammy, I’m here._

Sam groaned and rolled out from underneath the covers. He stretched carefully, working out the knots in his back. The old twin beds in Bobby’s guest room had worked fine when they were kids, but at well over 6 feet tall, Sam didn’t exactly fit anymore. Ripples of amusement tickled the edges of his senses.

 _Sleep alright, Princess?_

“Shut up. At least I sleep at all. What do you do?” Sam retorted. Dean didn’t respond, and Sam felt guilty instantly. Dean was right _there_ , right in the room with him, he could feel him as clearly as if he could see him with his own eyes, and as sarcastic as Dean was, sometimes his brain forgot what his heart didn’t want to think about; Dean, bleeding out on the floor in New Harmony, Indiana. His brother’s screams mingling with his own as the hellhounds ripped him to shreds. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he said. “You know I don’t mean that.” The slight feeling of _hurt_ dissipated at once.

 _It’s ok, Sam. You’re still allowed to be a cranky_ bitch _in the morning if it makes you feel better._

Sam laughed, relieved. “Well, pardon me if having a _jerk_ of a ghost as a brother isn’t something I want to ever get used to.” He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to sort out the worst of the knots. He could smell coffee brewing downstairs, and his stomach rumbled in response. A strong sense of support flowed through him; Dean agreed.

 _Wouldn’t want you to, Sammy._

Sam stood. Dean was one more day gone, and he was still no closer to figuring out how to bring him back. It was unacceptable. Time to get to work. “You gonna check the property?” he asked. Dean had taken to roaming Bobby’s land, flexing his slowly growing powers and making sure that Sam was safe. Sam didn’t want him to go, but there was no reason to argue. Memories of hunts of days past, of ghosts - slipped silently through his thoughts, whispered to him of the nightmare of eternal, drifting life.

Dean needed to have something to focus on. If he didn’t, Sam was worried what may become of his brother’s sanity.

 _Yeah._

“Don’t take long. I’ve got plans for us today.” Sam could feel Dean’s intense curiosity, but instead of asking questions, his brother withdrew smoothly, his presence fading from Sam’s mind the way the last rays of sunset snuck into nightfall. Sam gritted his teeth against the sudden onslaught of emotions. “Right, plans.” He whispered. Pulling on a pair of jeans, he headed down to breakfast.

~*~

It had become obvious to Sam pretty quickly that if he was going to keep working with Bobby to bring Dean back, he was going to have to tell the man the truth. For one thing, Sam was pretty sure that Bobby thought he'd lost his mind.

"Damn, stupid ..." Bobby shook his cell phone roughly, as if the signal would come back if he threatened it enough.

Sam watched from the doorway, feeling the emptiness inside him fill again. Dean was back. Sam wondered if Bobby had also noted the slight dimming of the lights, the faltering of the radio. This kind of thing had been slowly becoming more and more common in the last few days. On the one hand, Sam was glad, because it meant that Dean was getting stronger. On the other hand ... _Dean, knock it off. He's gonna hunt your ass_.

 _It's the EMF, I can't control it._

Sam bit his lip. Bobby's back was turned and he was wresting his SIM card from the phone's iron grip, reseating it to see if that would fix the problem. _We have to tell him._  
 _  
Sam, I said no._

 _We have to, Dean! It's not fair. He thinks you're in Hell!_ Sam almost thought he felt a sigh, the air in the room fluctuating, ripples of regret and guilt tainting the soothing presence.

 _I know, and I'm sorry. Please, just wait a little longer. Just wait until we have a plan._

Suddenly Sam realized that Bobby had gone very still. His newfound senses could practically feel the older man's thoughts working overtime. Sam stepped into the room. _Fine. But we can't stay here._ Time for a distraction. "Hey Bobby, got a minute?"

Bobby tossed one last glare towards the cell phone, muttering something under his breath before turning to regard Sam. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

"I think it's time I headed out for a while, got some space." Sam held out his hands defensively, sensing the protest form on Bobby's lips. "I found a job, nothing too tough, just a spirit - shouldn't take me long to handle it, and I just ...” Sam sighed, not wanting to lie, but not really wanting to throw too much truth into the mix, either. "I need to get back into it, clear my head a little, you know?"

From the way Bobby was staring at him Sam knew he wasn't convinced for a second. Brief signs of an intense internal struggle flashed across Bobby's eyes. "Well," he said slowly, "I won't stop ya, but I'll be here, if you need anything - any _help_ , you call me, got it?" Bobby shot a glare towards the useless piece of technology in his hand. "Well - get a hold of me somehow, anyway."

Sam smiled, nodding gratefully. "I got it, Bobby. Thanks."

It only took a few moments for Sam to gather his things. He'd been working on a plan of his own, and he hadn't discussed it with anyone just yet, but it was time to put it into action. Dean wouldn't like it, but Dean had been dead for almost a week, and Sam didn't like to think about that, and he wasn't willing to wait any longer for a solution. Sam swung his duffel heavily over his shoulder, scanning the room one last time to see if he had left anything behind.

 _You want to tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?_

"On the road," Sam whispered back.

Ruby had said that he could wipe Lilith off the map without moving a muscle. She'd thought 30 hours was enough time to learn how. Sam's passive power of sensing people’s emotions and his telepathic connection with Dean had been easy to master. Learning to use a destructive power would be much different.

Somehow he had to get in some practice.

~*~

Of course Dean objected immediately.  
 _  
No way Darth Vader, it's too dangerous._

"Look," Sam said, staring hard towards the empty passenger seat, hoping he was looking Dean in the eyes as he geared up for a fight. "We've both hunted alone before. I think I can handle trapping one demon."

 _What if you can't figure out how to kill it?_

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Then I'll _exorcise_ it." Sam could feel Dean's hesitation. "Look - I know it's not the safest idea, and yes we still have the knife, I just need to make sure that the next time will be the _last_ time, alright?" Sam sighed. "I just ... I want you back, man. And I can't make it happen unless Lilith is dead. Please. You've gotta go with me on this one." It was true, and Sam couldn’t hide the pleading tone in his voice. He wanted Dean back more than anything.

There was a long pause, and Sam knew Dean was turning things over in his mind, knew the look he would have had on his face.

 _How are you even going to find one?_

Sam smiled, relieved. "I have an idea."

~*~

"Dean, stop. I need to concentrate" Undulating sensations of concern and fear rolled through Sam, raising goose bumps on his forearms and causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand at attention. "I'll be fine. It's me, I can handle it."

 _But I don't want -_

"Dean, I'm not going anywhere man, please, just give me some space." Slowly Sam felt the precious warmth retreat from the room, and cold filled up the hollow space left behind. He suppressed a shiver. Every time Dean left, it was like losing him all over again. "Pull yourself together, Sam," he muttered. "This is how you get him back."

Sam settled down onto the motel bed, legs crossed Indian style, hands resting loosely in his lap. Reaching inward, he felt the power's current, bubbling in a reservoir deep inside him, settled firmly in his core, just out of his mental reach. It flowed forward so easily to Dean, it drew him close, binding them together - but to thrust it towards a stranger, or worse - a _demon -_ was like exposing his jugular, and Sam didn't know if he could do it.

Sam grasped the power and pulled it forward gently, feathering it outwards softly in all directions. The room he’d booked was in a busy city; people were everywhere. He could sense them all. If he focused on them specifically, he could feel their emotions. If he concentrated very hard, he could hear snippets of their thoughts. He hated being so invasive, it made him feel uneasy. He’d always been able to read people well enough without invading their basest privacies.

Except for when his Dad had been possessed. Except for when he hadn’t recognized Lilith. Except for the two times it had cost him his father and his brother.

Sam pushed harder, determined to make this work. His days of caring that he was different were over. If he didn’t embrace this now, he’d never master it. Dean was counting on him, and Dean was all that mattered. The power began to flow smoothly, brushing every person as it passed, fanning through the multitude of humanity.

Sam closed his eyes, visualized what he was ‘seeing’. The humans showed in his second sight as pure lights, hovering over the worldly plane like fireflies. The animal life seemed tinged with green and blue tones, the constant movement of ecology dizzying in its ebb and flow.

He had not been searching long before he felt it. It was a wound, a stain in the fabric of life; a black hole. It felt strongly of death and decay, of violence and murder. Underneath the stain, a weakened human soul struggled to survive, its bright light dampened by possession.

He had found a demon.

Sam withdrew the power from the rest of the city, focused it all on the dark spot in his inner sight. He sharpened the feather touch to a razor’s edge, readied the blow, and _shoved_ the demon roughly. The demon flinched, whirling about to seek the power’s source. Sam held it steady, taunting it, letting it taste his power.

Flashes, images of the intended meeting ground leapt from Sam’s mind, imprinting into the demon’s awareness. Sam was baiting the hook, taunting his prey.

Psychic or no psychic, Sam was a hunter first. He could read this demon, he could predict what it would do. He knew it would want all the credit for finding him for itself.

In his mind’s eye, the demon’s feral eyes widened in surprise as it realized who he was. _Winchester_ , it hissed, the word dripping venom and wild abandon. The demon knew him, knew that its leader wanted him dead. He could taste its ambition, feel its lust for power. For the demon that killed Sam, the reward would be unimaginable. The black spot shifted in his radar, and he felt the demon’s own power begin to track him, to try to locate him.

The demon had taken the bait.

Sam smiled fiercely. “Come and get me, then.”

~*~

 _Dude. It's like demonic Marco Polo_.

“Shh, I’m concentrating.” Sam replied, steering the Impala closer towards his target. The demon was tracking him, but they were playing by his rules. Every few minutes Sam would shut the power down, retreating into the safety of his cocoon where the demon couldn’t sense him anymore. He’d drive a few miles, then send out his feelers again. The demon was drawing closer, triangulating his location.

 _You’re sure you hid the trap good enough, right?_

“Yes, shut up, this isn’t as easy as I make it look.” Sam pulled into a parking space behind an old empty warehouse. It was hard enough visualizing two planes at once – while driving no less – without the feel of Dean’s infectious worry niggling the back of his mind like nails on a chalkboard. He killed the engine and took a deep breath. “Warn me when it gets here, alright?” He stepped out of the car and headed for the side entrance.

 _Roger that. Now maintaining radio silence_.

“Very funny.”

 _That’s not very radio silent._

Sam rolled his eyes. _Fine, is this better_?

 _Yep._

The casually playful feeling receded, replaced by a much more serious tone.

 _Sammy, be careful._

Sam nodded, nerves stretched tight. He could feel the demon drawing closer, taking the bait. It was almost time. _You, too._

Sam stepped into the empty warehouse, cast one final look around at the set up. Everything was ready. Sam sent out a burst of energy, flooding the room with it, broadcasting his presence far and wide.

He felt the demon shift direction instantly. He smiled.

“Marco.”

~*~

Sam stood ready as the demon approached. Slightly over a year ago, his misadventure in Cold Oak had brought him to this place, and as he thought about that time, he searched his mind for any information he’d heard then that could help him now. Ava had said that once she gave in, the switch had flipped like _that_. She could control demons. Jake had told him there was no limit to what they could do.

Andy had been able to control people’s actions. Sam’s hands tightened into fists, squeeze and release, tension radiating from him like a beacon. He knew what he wanted to try.

 _Get ready, it’s comin’._

Sam nodded tersely, squared his shoulders. He felt Dean close ranks with him, standing back to back as their eyes swept the empty room, seeing both planes at once.

The door of the warehouse opened softly, a small squeak the only noise to warn him. To his surprise, a young woman entered, striding confidently into the room. She stopped just before crossing the perimeter of the devils trap, concealed behind a row of casually placed discarded equipment. From the other side of the trap, Sam regarded her coldly.

“Sam Winchester,” the demon hissed, smiling through the face of the innocent girl in a leering gesture. “You think that just because you’re the one that got away, you can come and play in the big leagues?” She titled her head, shooting him a mocking look of sympathy.

Sam stared confidently from behind the shimmering wall of his cocoon. “What do you want?” He demanded. The black spot covering the innocent soul bubbled like tar, seething with barely contained hatred. He could sense the girl struggling to break free. Dean could sense it, too. Sam could tell by the rage and disgust crashing across his senses like a tidal wave.

The demon frowned. “You called _me_ , remember? You sought me out. What’s the matter, Sammy? Looking to end it all?” The girl’s eyes went black as the demon smiled, its anticipation setting Sam’s senses on fire. “Can’t live without big brother around to tell you what to do?”

The temperature in the room fluctuated, dropping several degrees. Sam ignored the words. _Easy, Dean_. He warned, not wanting to tip their two-to-one advantage too soon. “No,” he said flatly, no trace of fear in his voice. “I called you here to tell you that the rules have changed.” The cocoon of power began expanding, moving towards the girl. Its tendrils reached for her mind, deep beyond the possessing demon, overriding its control of her.

Sam sent a command to her unconscious mind, and his tone left no room for argument. _Come to me._ __

The girl flinched, struggling to follow Sam’s order. The demon inside of her recoiled. “What are you doing?” it gasped, fighting every step of the way as the body it possessed moved forward without its permission.

 _Hell yes._ That’s _my boy._ __

Sam grinned, focusing hard on the demon, dark satisfaction curling deep in his belly like warm drowsy wine. The girl was nearing the edge of the trap. Sam wrapped the sparkling cocoon around girl just as the demon made a break for it, trapping the black smoke inside as she stepped across the line. The demon howled with rage.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Sam asked pleasantly, gesturing to the single chair inside the middle of the trap. The demon glared at him, malice shining brightly from the cursed black eyes as it sat. “Oh,” Sam crooned. “If only looks could kill.” The smile faded from his lips and he entrapped the girl in his current, commanding her to _stay._ The girl’s body held totally still, but Sam could feel the demon writhing and twisting in vain inside her, trying to break free. Sam secured the girl, tying her wrists to the arms of the chair tightly. “Maybe then you’d have a fighting chance.” He said.

 _C’mon Sam, stop screwing around. Waste it already._ __

Sam took a deep breath. _Here goes nothing._ Sam stepped to the outside of the trap and brought the power to bear. He surrounded the demon with it, forming a net on all sides, the bright shimmer of his power drowning the darkness of the demon, choking it, negating it.

The demon began to scream. It tried to shrink away from the current, but it was everywhere, closing in on it, covering it completely. Dean’s wild abandon surrounded Sam, his brother’s excitement lending him strength. All around the trap, the old pieces of warehouse equipment and spare parts began to rattle, and the shockwaves of Sam’s intent shook the foundations of the room.

“What do you _want_?” The demon screamed, struggling against the ropes in an effort to shield itself from the onslaught. “What do you want from me?”

Sam’s face was cold and his body still as he looked straight into the monster’s eyes. _Mom. Jess._ The well inside of him began to bubble and swell, building to a climax. _Dad._ His hatred sparked, and his power caught fire as he called on it to burn the demon alive. _Dean_. “All I want,” he ground out, “is for you to _die_.” With that final word, he released the full torrent of his rage.

Sam knew right away as he felt the dizzying rush of the transfer that he'd made a mistake. But he couldn't pull it back, the surge was too intense, and it committed him to finish the job. The demon screamed in agony, the sound like roaring wind and fire and sorrow all rolled into one as it flung itself against the borders of the devils trap, trying in vain to escape.

Sam felt the reserves of his inner core drain, levels of power depleting rapidly. He began to panic."Dean ... I can't ... Dean!" Everything _flowed_ , from his mind, from his fingertips, from _everywhere_.

 _What's wrong? Sammy? Sam!_

Sam's reserves ran out.

Sam gasped. His muscles seemed to liquefy with sudden exhaustion as the power began drawing on his own body's energy to sustain the flow. He collapsed limply to the ground. Black spots darkened the edges of his vision. Faintly he could feel Dean's sheer panic, sense the final scream of the demon as it was ripped to shreds, and then as the last ounce of strength left him, his eyes slowly closed and he fell deeply into dreamless sleep.

~*~

Slowly she realized that she could see again. She could move her own eyes and flex her own fingers, and even though she was tied to a chair, she somehow knew that the unconscious man on the floor outside the trap had just saved her life. "Hello?" She wondered how long it had been since she controlled her own voice, how long the monster inside her had been in charge of her actions. "Sir? Sir!" She remembered that the monster - the _demon_ \- had called the man _Sammy_.

He was pale and his face shone with sweat, and in the dim lighting she couldn't tell if he was breathing. "Oh, God, please ... Sam? Sam!!" She struggled against her bonds, but they were tight enough to bind the demon, and they were more than a match for her. Suddenly she saw - or thought she saw - a shimmer, a disturbance in the air behind Sam's still form, and her breath froze in her throat, and her first thought was _no, please, it was dead, he killed it_ , and she couldn't help but scream. "Help! Somebody help us!" She doubled her efforts against the ropes, tearing her bruised wrists against the rough grain. A chill slid over her, painful cold seeping into every inch of her body, and she couldn't move anymore.

The vague shimmer flickered, and the faint outline of a man became visible, kneeling at the side of her fallen would-be rescuer. Dread twisted her stomach into knots. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was defiant. "Get away from him."

A low, keening wail pierced the room, currents of sorrow whipping through the air like wind, washing over her, taking her breath away. The flickering man on the floor next to Sam was ... afraid? Time seemed frozen as he reached out to touch Sam, everything inside of her wanted to scream at him to stop, to leave them alone, but when his insubstantial hand fell _through_ Sam instead of contacting him, the ... ghost?... let loose another wail of sorrow, an almost feral growl of animal rage, and her heart went out to him, he sounded _that_ lost.

He knelt there for long moments, shoulders rising and falling as he seemed to breathe, hand hovering over Sam's pale face, seemingly willing him to _move_ , to be ok. After what felt like an eternity, Sam stirred. It was barely a motion, but the tense set of the almost - man's shoulders relaxed instantly.

He stood slowly and stepped towards her, pale form entering the light, and she saw him clearly for the first time. He was tall - not as tall as Sam - but he would still tower over her easily, and she could see that in his life he was attractive; well dressed, well built. But those observations took a quick backseat to the state of his appearance.

His jeans and jacket were torn into ragged, bloody strips, giant claw marks sunk deep into the skin of his chest, his arms, his left leg - _everywhere_. It was as if something had devoured him. His limbs stuck out at odd angles, and even though the deep wounds on his chest no longer bled, the red stain covered him completely where the blood had flowed from his throat; and from his heart.

He moved towards her smoothly, gliding rather than walking, and it was that more than anything that convinced her that he was really dead, because there was no way a live person could have walked on a leg that was twisted like that.

Terror rose up inside her, forming bile in the back of her throat, and her chest heaved with the effort of pulling in air as she tried to sink further into the old wooden chair. He was going to kill her, she knew it, and she was helpless to stop it from happening. She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch anymore, just willing the nightmare to be over. She felt the cold, sliding presence draw closer, inching nearer to her with every passing second until he was right in her face, she knew he was, and she waited, but nothing happened. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

Glittering green eyes radiating worry and sorrow stared back. Irrationally she wondered if he was looking into her soul. Despite the blood and gore, despite the wrong that had been done to him, looking into those eyes she'd never seen anything more beautiful. Or anything more tragic.

Somewhere she found her lost voice. "Who are you?" She whispered. "What do you want?" She had so many questions, but his nearness was taking her breath away, and her heart raced in her chest as his _sorrow_ , his _need_ washed over her in icy waves.

He offered her a sad smile. His form was becoming more translucent with each passing second, as though the energy it took to sustain it was failing him. He placed an index finger to his lips. _Shhh_. He pointed to her, then made a gesture with his fingers. _You're ok_. He held out both hands, palms facing her. _Just wait_.

Then with a shutter-flash of light and no sound at all, he vanished, just as if he had never been.

~*~

So _tired_.

Sam's stiff muscles ached against the hard floor, but the discomfort wasn't enough for him to want to pull himself from sleep. He shifted painfully, closing his eyes tighter in hopes that he could just get some _rest_. A persistent voice was cutting through the haze, and he twitched, wanting to tell the voice to _go away, leave me alone_ and _can't you see I'm exhausted_ , but it just kept calling out his name.

"Sam?"

"Whatsamatter," he slurred weakly, trying to focus on the question.

"Oh my God, you ... thank God! Please, can you stand up? Sam, right? Sam?" The voice was a woman's voice, and she sounded scared, and when Sam opened his eyes to regard the cold hard floor beneath him, he suddenly remembered where he was and why.

He sat up too quickly, spinning towards the woman in the center of the devil's trap. Her wrists bled from pulling at the ropes. Her hair was limp with sweat, and her cheeks held the residue of tears, but her eyes were bright and clear as she pinned him with her gaze. He swayed, catching himself on his hands and knees. He climbed shakily to his feet, stumbling over to the trap and the woman stuck inside.

She waited patiently as he fumbled for his knife and began carefully cutting the ropes that held her. "The demon ... it's ... dead, right? I killed it?" He asked.

Sam could see she was terrified, but it wasn't directed at him. He remembered how he felt after his own experience. He winced, softened his voice, and looked her in the eyes. "Are you alright?" She nodded, and he gave her an encouraging smile. His mind was working overtime. _How did I kill it? What happened to me?_ Suddenly he noticed that something seemed to be missing. His blood froze. _Where's Dean?_

"It's dead." The girl was saying, "But Sam, there's something else here," she whispered, eyes casting around the room as though she was afraid it would come back. Sam just waited. "A man, a ... I don't know what he was, he looked ..." Her eyes met Sam's, and they were full of apology. It was clear that she didn't think he was going to believe her. "He looked _dead_." She pulled her wrists loose and carefully inspected the chaffed skin.

All of Sam’s tact vanished. He knelt at the base of the chair and grabbed the chair’s arms in his hands, crowding the woman, diverting her attention to him and him alone.

"You saw him? You saw my brother?" Her eyes widened in horror, and she froze, caught in his gaze. Her lips moved slightly, forming an _oh_ shape, but she said nothing, just stared deep into his eyes. Recognition dawned across her face. “Did he speak to you? Where is he now, do you still see him?” Sam demanded.

She reached out then, resting her fingers gently on the curve of Sam’s cheekbone, the first signs of tears gleaming in her eyes. "He was your _brother_? Oh, Sam ... I ..." Saddened and spent, she dropped her head into her hands and began to cry.

Sam stared. Obviously the day’s events had been too much for her. He sighed. “Shhh, it’s ok, I’m gonna get you out of here, come on.” He reached for her gently, and she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck. Sam lifted her easily from the chair and into his arms, surprised to feel his strength was quickly returning. “What’s your name?” He asked.

“Claire.” She whispered. Sam’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. The last Claire he’d met had been a death omen. Claire’s tears seemed to be slowing now, but she kept her head buried firmly into the crook of his neck, not wanting to ‘see’ anything else.

“What happened to him?” He thought he’d imagined the soft question until she repeated it again a little more firmly. “Sam? What happened to him? Your … brother, I mean.”

Details of their lives and of the horrors they’d lived through flooded Sam’s mind. Demons and ghosts and monsters, the feel of desperation, love and loss, but he settled for the simple answer – the ultimate truth of what had happened was the easiest way to explain.

“He saved my life,” He said. “He took my place.” Shifting Claire in his arms, he reached for the door of the warehouse and pushed it open. Bright afternoon sun surrounded them, and he squinted against the glare.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, _Sam_ ,” She choked back fresh tears. “I’m so sorry.” He tilted his face to meet her gaze, surprised at the sympathy he saw there. She reached for him, gently wiping away a single tear from his cheek. He blinked. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“Thank you.” he whispered. And then, because it seemed important, he added, “His name is Dean.” Claire nodded, settling back into Sam’s embrace. She seemed to understand.

“Well, tell him I said thank you.” She said. Sam’s lips brushed against the soft fall of her hair as he smiled. Even in death, it seemed, Dean could still work the Winchester charm.

The evening warmth seeped slowly into his skin, dulling the chilled feeling in his soul. There was a slight flutter as the power flared back to life. Slowly, his senses began to expand once more, inner strength recharging along with the rest of his body.

Flashes of images from Claire’s mind flickered across his inner sight. _Dean._ _Kneeling over him, watching him. Worried enough about him to manifest physically. Comforting Claire._ _Looking_ … Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to think about that. _Flickering and vanishing._

Sam was suddenly finding it very hard not to panic. Grasping the available current, he sent it reaching out in every direction, mentally shouting his brother’s name. _Dean!_

Sam was living on two planes as he carefully set Claire into the car. “Let’s get you to a hospital, ok?” She nodded and settled quietly into the leather.

Cats in the alley behind the warehouse. Rats in the rafters. Garbage man walking slowly across the street. Claire in the car. _Dean_? Birds, office workers, people driving home, rush hour traffic … _there_. A warm spot, a faintly shining presence. The outpour shifted, surrounding the presence, drew it close. _Dean! Are you alright? Can you hear me?_

 _Sam? You ok?_

Dean was weak, but the light of his spirit was steady. _Dean! What happened?_

 _… I think we need to rethink this plan of yours. Are you ok?_

Sam’s shoulders sagged with intense relief. He centered Dean firmly inside the glowing current, anchoring him. _I’m fine now. Just rest. I need to get Claire to a hospital._ Firm agreement buoyed his senses, gave him strength of purpose. Wearily he climbed into the Impala, put the key in the ignition, pressed the gas, and got the hell out of there without looking back.

~*~

The purr of the Impala’s engine soothed his tired nerves as Sam guided her smoothly back to Bobby’s. Claire was safely at the hospital. She’d kept him largely out of their explanation to the police, saying only that he’d saved her life, and with a thankful look in her direction, he had taken his leave.

One problem solved, one million problems to go. “But I _did_ kill it,” he said. “I felt it rip apart.”

 _Yeah, but Sam – this demon was a small fry. Nowhere near as strong as Lilith. If you go up against her like that, it would kill you._

“So I’ll get more practice. Grow the power stronger.”

 _Sam, no._

“Dean, I’m doing this.” Dean was adamant, but as much as Dean could be stubborn, Sam was determined to win this argument.

 _Sam, I mean it. No. I’m not losing you again. I can’t let anything happen to you. I won’t._

Sam snorted. He knew the feeling. “Then I’ll just have to use it a different way, some way that doesn’t use up all my energy at once. Learn what my limits are, and then work on those areas until I get stronger.” Sam shook his head. “Besides, don’t talk to me about being reckless. What were you thinking, manifesting like that? You could have …” Sam stopped short, not wanting to finish that particular thought. Dean as a ghost was fixable. Dean in _Hell_ was fixable. Dean being … nonexistent, well – _that_ , Sam didn’t know how to fix.Dean’s weariness seeped into Sam’s soul, threatened to drag him under.

 _I know. I didn’t … I’m sorry._

Sam shook his head. “It’s ok, man, just – be careful.” Rehashing their mistakes wasn’t going to get them anywhere. “Ok – maybe, what if I just work on the mind control? If I can pin Lilith down, then I can just kill her with the knife if I have to. That way …” _That way an innocent person dies._ Sam pushed the thought away. It was like Bobby had said; Killing Lilith was about a lot more than just saving Dean. If Sam could find a way to kill her without hurting anyone else, then he would.

And if he couldn’t … well, he’d just have to live with it. Dean’s hesitant agreement surrounded him.

 _So how do psychics eat their wheaties?_

 __Sam really didn’t know. “Man, I think we need help.”

 _Back to Bobby’s, then._

 __“So we can tell him now?” Sam asked hopefully.

 _Yeah. I think it’s time._

“Ok.” Sam was relieved more than he was willing to let on.

One problem solved, one million problems to go. Lost in thought, Sam almost didn’t catch the sudden shift in Dean’s emotions.

 _So that girl – she liked you._

 __Sam gaped. “Are you serious?”

 _Yeah, I am. You should look her up sometime. She seemed pretty tough. Like, maybe she could handle the whole psychic wonder thing you’ve got going on._

 __“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”Sam laughed. “Don’t you think we have more important things to worry about besides getting me laid?”

 _I know, just –_

Sam felt Dean’s concern as strongly as if he’d seen it in his brother’s eyes. _Oh_.

“Dean, I’m not lonely. I’ve still got you.” He said quietly. _Whatever you say, Sam._

 __Sam opened up the Impala, urging her down the road. Things had never been so different in his life as they were now, but really, driving down the road with his brother in the passenger seat, heading to Bobby’s to ask for help, getting ready for the hunt of his life – maybe things were actually the same.


End file.
